Find You Here
by dreamerchaos
Summary: Wikus takes on more responsibility than he can possibly dream of when he finds the young abandoned prawn abandoned in the trash. He fears either he will lose his sanity or lose his adopted son to MNU. ChristopherxWikus in late chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Find You Here (1/?)

Author: dreamerchaos

Pairing: ChristopherxWikus.

Rating: Mature overall.

Disclaimer: All recognizeable characters are owned by others than myself. I make no profit in writing this.

Warnings: Language. Slash between an alien and a human(Or who was human…). Gore.

* * *

"Don't look at me like that."

The tiny little prawn, no more than a few days old, burbled from the padded depths of the makeshift nest. Wikus curled uncomfortably tense in the corner opposite from the nest and his new guest.

"I'm not your papa, kid. So don't give me those puppy dog eyes."

It was too true. After six months, Wikus ―body shifted completely into the tall, gaunt form of Johannesburg's alien residents ― had had the odd luck of stumbling across the weak, mewling prawn hidden within the dried black shell of an egg, buried under a pile of black trash bags and strewn garbage.

* * *

_After he brushed off the pieces of organic refuse, tossing aside the shriveled torn pieces of the matted trash bags, he stared at the tiny, little creature, the whimpering prawn's carapace still slick with the nutritious fluids of his egg casing. _

_Wikus didn't have the heart to lay the little prawn back down and leave him where he had been found...not after a tiny, weak little hand curled around his forefinger, the young, new life hanging on with the feeble remains of his draining strength._

_Wikus had scurried back to his tiny shack, the little prawn tucked against his thin chest. His neighbor, William, clicked in question and concern at the degree of panic in Wikus' eyes ― William more commonly used to Wikus' disgust and terror such as last week when a hyena dared to shred open and gnaw through a bag of trash, or when the week after that the smaller prawn had groaned and heaved violently when several of the large prawns decided that the hyena was plump enough to their liking and ready to eat ― so the gray and black speckled prawn rose to his feet when Wikus rushed past him._

"_What is it?" He follows, and snags the rim of the door before Wikus can slam the metal frame shut in his face._

"_N-Nothing!" William does not believe the smaller prawn for a second._

_Wikus' 'Nothing' chooses to wriggle within the smaller prawn's arms and trills up towards the larger stranger._

_William tilts his head in consternation. "You…" He looks at Wikus meaningfully._

"_He isn't mine!" Wikus interrupts, sensing the direction that the prawn was going. "I…I don't know where his parents are. I found him buried underneath some trash."_

_William hums, and gently brushes a finger across the tiny sprawn's brow. The little prawn shivers blissfully, "Either they are dead, or they chose to abandon their egg."_

_Wikus' voice froze within his throat at the dispassionate conclusion. He stutters for words, "…h-how could anyone just abandon their own child…"_

"_Good question." William's brow arches. "How can one listen and watch while a shack full of unborn eggs burns to the ground?" He counters. Here, Wikus wilts beneath his unmoving gaze, antenna lowered in shame._

"_Life is cruel." William, so cruel in his kindness and honesty, but he claps the smaller prawn on the shoulder, "Perhaps they thought it would be better for their young one to never be brought into this world. What sort of life can he have here, in this cesspool?"_

"_Far better one than a brief, desperate struggle to breathe underneath the weight of filth and decay." Wikus growls, surprising William with his righteous indignation, the smaller prawn curled protectively around the young sprawn._

_William allows a show of humor, chuckling softly at Wikus' fury. "You make a fine father." He compliments._

_Wikus blinks suddenly. "W-What?" He looks down at the young sprawn, then up to William. Panic colors his voice, "N-No! I…I can't take care of him…I don't know the first thing about kids!" He tries to thrust the sprawn into William's arms, but the large prawn won't have anything to do with that._

"_Then you shouldn't have brought him home with you." William clatters, brushing away Wikus' pleas, "He's already imprinted on to you. If you separate from him now, you'll surely kill him with your doubts and cowardice."_

* * *

The sprawn whimpers plaintively, little fists waving in the air.

Immediately Wikus crawls over to the nest, calling himself every sort of weak coward for his compulsiveness to answer those tiny cries, only to backpedal and huddle in the farthest corner of the shack with his hands clapped over his ear canals.

"Shhh shhh." Wikus nuzzles the small sprawn, the little creature coos and curls against his chest in elation and relief when the large prawn answers his cries, "I'm sorry. Okay? I'll try. Really…I'll try to stop being an ass. Just…give me time, okay?"

The little sprawn isn't interested in his babble, noticeable by his soft purrs and clench, unclench of little hands upon Wikus' clavicles.

Wikus sighs in defeat, wrapping his longer, gaunt frame around the round pile of blankets. A soft hum of a song breaks the quiet of the shack interior, Wikus gently easing the young sprawn into slumber.

Lying there for hours, his curiosity soars ― his fear and hesitation a long dead breeze of ill memory ― Wikus is overwhelmed with the degree of sensory information. The older prawn silently marvels at the degree of infatuation that threatens to suffocate his very being. One hand running up and down the curl of the little sprawn's back, antennas dipped to brush and catalogue the scent mark, tentacles assimilating the scent molecules humming across the little sprawn's flesh.

The gentle hush of the young sprawn's breath and the stutter of his rising and falling chest lulls Wikus to close his eyes and join him in sleep, never mind that the sun had long since risen, and the rattle and hiss of his neighbors slowly fills the dirt-packed streets as they begin their daily morning scavenging for food, while Wikus and his young charge remain none the wiser.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Find You Here (2/?)

Author: dreamerchaos

Pairing: ChristopherxWikus.

Rating: Mature overall.

Warnings: Language. Slash between an alien and a human(Or who was human…). Gore.

* * *

'_What the fook am I going to do?'_ Wikus stares down at the young one sitting in his lap, the little prawn grown by leaps and bounds in the last three months, three times the size when Wikus had originally found him, but he was still such a tiny thing compared to the other prawns and fewer humans who roamed the District, _'He's been mine for the last few months…but tomorrow morning, I may just lose him.'_

He calls himself every sort of a fool for not recalling the licensing process for a newborn prawn. Wikus an inexperienced, nerve-wracked father for the first time, **completely **forgot about the proper paperwork trail necessary to protect him and his new ward. The stark black and white stamp absent from his and his son's skulls were easily forged for a few crinkled bills and half an hour under the dexterous hand of a human neighbor, their compliance and silence paid with a large chunk of the money he has managed to scavenge through trading glass bottles and cans at a recycling stand.

He thanks his lucky stars that they have lasted this far. Wikus especially sends a quiet thanks to the deities above that the move to District 10 had been delayed due to bureaucratic missteps and the outcry from conversationalists, MNU a bit too eager to displace the alien population without considering that they planned to deposit over two million prawns onto the preserved land of a national park without the approval or go ahead from the government, many of the politicians unimpressed by the handling of MNU's lawyers throughout the entire fiasco.

From the word travelling the District, the odyssey to their new 'home' could be delayed by at least an entire year before everything is sorted out.

Another one of his neighbors, Donald, years younger than William, crouches nearby, stabbing half-heartedly at the thick packed soil with a long stick, the pale green prawn bored, but completely uneager in daring to venture into the heavy heat of the midday sun.

Wikus' adopted son, Barry, playfully beats his tiny hands upon a small pile of dirt, mimicking Donald and his quiet, bored distractive behavior. Donald's head tilts puppishly, noting how the young prawn copies him.

* * *

_Donald tilts his head, digesting the complicated name, "Barrr-tho-laaa-muel?" He parrots. William, seated on the opposite side of the low, banked fire pit, sighs, ever patient as he tries once again to explain._

"_No." The older prawn repeats himself for the fifth time, "Bartholomew," while Wikus tries to convince his newly named son to sample a piece of vegetable, the young prawn stubbornly turning his face away, face twisted in repugnance. _

_Donald, bless him, tilts his head in the opposite direction, large umber eyes blinking slowly, "…his name is bigger than he is…" _

_William appears torn between patting the quiet prawn on the head ― or delivering a good smack upside his thick skull ― Donald a bit too honest for his own good. _

_Wikus simply bemoans the fact that he doesn't go a day without visitors, Donald and William chattering in the background like a rabble of huffed hens, debating Wikus' choice of a name for his son. _

_Barry succeeds in slapping aside the offending piece of vegetable, and Wikus concedes his defeat, reluctantly acknowledging that you can't convince a leopard to change his spots, nor could you cajole a meat-loving extraterrestrial to sample a succulent piece of green foliage. _

_

* * *

_

"MNU will be here tomorrow." William joins the pair underneath the shaded eaves of Wikus' tin roof, Donald trilling in greeting, and Wikus bobs his chin in acknowledgment.

"So nosey," Donald sighs, MNU a never ending, troublesome bother, "So much easier to eat them. Less shouting." Wikus snorts with a small guffaw of sick humor.

His amusement quickly flips into quiet distress as reality quickly settles in. The quarterly inspection would begin bright and early tomorrow morning…and when MNU officers realize that he does not possess an license for Barry, then they would demands answers for the young creature's presence since he had not been living with Wikus during the last inspection….or worse, Barry would be seized and delivered to Children Services, where Wikus would more than likely never see his adopted child again.

"You could stay with me." Donald offers, turned around partway to face the young father, sensing Wikus' worry, "Say that you are my partner. Humans like two parents. One father doesn't look so good to them."

"It won't work." William insists, and Donald throws a hurt look in his direction, "Neither of you have ever cohabitated, nor will it show in MNU records. They will see right through your farce."

"…Maybe I could hide him somewhere…" Wikus tries to reach for some semblance of hope.

"It would look far worse for the soldiers to find a little prawn all by its lonesome." William looks away when Donald moans softly in distress, the younger prawn dismayed with every negative word that comes from William's trilled voice, "…and what if one of the Nigerians found Barry while he was without one of us to protect him?"

Wikus keens, arms circling Barry and clutching him tight.

"Shut up!" Donald growls and slaps the palm of his hand against William's shoulder. The shorter prawn jumps to his feet, "Shut up! You make things worse. So negative…if you can't help, then don't speak!" He chirrs, so agitated that his carapace rattles like flat stones knocking together.

"Calm down." William offers his hands, raising them in the air in surrender, "You get upset so easily. Why don't you inside and find that nice baby blanket you managed to hunt down for Barry-"

His attempt at misdirection only upsets the younger prawn further. "May be thick in the head, and humans may call me stupid!" The young prawn barks, "May be slow, but doesn't mean I don't notice when I'm not wanted!" Donald slaps away William's hand, and spins around to stomp back towards his shack. A sharp swing and the shack door slams shut behind him with an all mighty crash.

Wikus winces; his head remains downturned during the length of their short, heated argument. "I'll talk to him." Wikus tries to coax William to sit back down, the larger prawn shaking with bitter frustration, "Don't go chasing after him just yet. You know that he likes to be alone for a while in order to calm down."

"What a frustration." William snarls, and turns a glare on Wikus. "You are too nice to him. He constantly hovers and hangs around you. You should encourage him to be more independent. He's almost as bad as a young one pushed for the first time out of the nest!"

"And you are too harsh and impatient with him." Wikus returns him glare for glare. "Donald…is a bit slow, but he has a good heart. And your constant cynicism confuses and upsets him. All he wants is a friend, but you do such a good job cutting him down with your words that he is afraid to get to know you better."

Barry whimpers, wriggling uncomfortably in distress in response to the heightened tension in the air. Wikus breaks his staring match and bends downward, affectionately tangling his curled mandibles with the young prawn, Barry chirping and butts his chin against his parent's.

William's tense shoulders droop, his proud head falls. "….I worry...He never listens to me. He won't stop daydreaming when he should be watching out for the Nigerians. He constantly ventures outside the District, hunting for baubles or anything that may catch his fancy, no matter how many times I plead for him to not wander! I want to tell him how much it upsets me, but I can never find the right words, and instead I lose my temper and say something that hurts his feelings."

"Spoken like any good friend, no matter how much of an idiot we may be when we speak before we thing."

"Friend…" William's chest puffs in pride, "…Yes." He clicks, "Donald teases me. Says that one day I will become a leader. Strut about and make you answer my beck and call."

"Well, you certainly do a good job in keeping us under tabs for our own safety." Wikus lost count of how many times William has stepped in to assist him during his progression into his prawn form, the older prawn the one to cajole Donald to take up residence in the abandoned shed, the young prawn inexperienced at hunting and surviving on his lonesome, the green prawn starving for companionship after his tiny gang of prawn misfits had been gunned down by a larger human gang.

"If I was a good leader, I could fix this. Find some sort of solution." William shuffles his feet, gaze locked to the ground. "But I cannot find an answer. It's upsetting….I thought he wouldn't survive a week, but look at him now. He is young and glows with vitality, but this tiny, ball of life can just as quickly be snuffed out tomorrow. What do we do, Wikus?" The taller prawn begs, and spins around, pumps a balled fist into the wall of the shed, a sharp bark of frustration echoes the pop of his curled punch, "_Tell me_. Tell me what can be done."

Barry yawns, wide and long drawn, snuffles and hides his face in Wikus' throat. Sleepily, stick thin arms wrap reach around his father's neck. Wikus tries to offer a small smile of confidence, but his jaw and tentacles quiver, ruining his pretense.

He cannot encourage the words to struggle upwards from within the depths of his throat, worried that the words will come out as a tangle of a staged laugh and wrenched sob. Instead, he purrs in Barry's tiny indent of an ear, the little prawn cooing in content when Wikus begins to whisper a familiar lullaby.

* * *

"No. Stay. Here." Wikus tries to hush Barry's confused whimpers, the tiny prawn bravely peeks his head out from underneath a mat of blankets. Wikus shakily holds a finger up to his tentacles, begging for silence, his other hand curled around the handle of the door, an MNU officer on the opposite side banging his fist upon the frame, the rattle and boom of the juddering metal structure drags a wail from the frightened sprawn.

"**MNU**! _Open the fooking door_!"

"All right!" Wikus shoves open the door, quick to try and slam it shut behind him. One of the armed men blocks his endeavor, and with a grunt the prawn is shoved onto his knees.

More raised voices, two other people shouting at the armed men who point their weapons at him. "Are you _trying_ to get your face ripped off?" A young woman snaps at the two armed men, long curly chestnut hair hanging around a plain face, a clipboard clutched tightly to her chest, "You idiots need to remember that we are to be liaisons between native and extraterrestrial neighbors, not to see how many times you can wave a gun around!"

"Never hurts to be careful." The man propping open the shack door mutters, "The ugly bugger seems really eager to keep us outside."

"And I can see and hear why!" The woman sharply points to the little prawn that totters out from the nest of blankets. Barry keens in fear, hunched under the cold, unfriendly human eyes beneath the glossy black helmet, the tiny prawn's two sets of arms curled against his chest as he fretfully searches for his father.

Wikus trills in alarm and stretches out a hand to his son. The human male growls in warning, a push of the gun shoves the barrel into his face.

"That is **enough**!" The woman looks ready to scream.

"But Ms. Walker-"

"_Thomas!"_ The young MNU operative shouts for another armed officer. "Escort these two men back to the truck!"

Wikus keeps his head down, a sharp jolt of recognition as the familiar black uniformed, heavy frame barks for the two young officers to follow him. Wikus narrowly avoided calling out to the former acquaintance, but dreading the reaction or inevitable questions surrounding a scruffy prawn and a veteran officer, Wikus forces himself to remain silent.

The woman sighs, a gust of frustration heaved from her petite chest. "Wasting daylight with those idiots," She mutters.

Tiny feet patter across the floor of the shed, the little prawn weaving like a drunk on his unsteady legs. Barry reaches him and throws himself into Wikus' chest, and the older prawn without delay encircles his charge, crooning soft clicks and purrs of praise and comfort.

"And who is this, then?" Wikus flinches, head whipped around, alarmed when the young woman kneels down several feet from him and Barry. Soft blue eyes gaze at him in question.

"…Barry." Wikus answers, his click and cricket chirp a soft buzz between them.

Behind the young woman, Donald peeks around his shack, eyes frantic and bulging, the prawn looking ready to rush to Wikus' aid. The men near the truck are closely watching the green prawn's actions, and Wikus silently begs for his neighbor to stay far back and not incur the armed men's closer attention.

The woman smiles gently. "Good, good!" Brushing the specks of dirt off the pressed material of her slacks, she pulls out her pen, readying her clipboard. "And your license, then, Sir? Can I please see it so that I can copy down the inscription date?"

Wikus stutters. His arms tighten further around his son.

The brightness of her smile dims ever so slightly. "…You **do** have a license, don't you?"

"I…I.." Wikus cringes throughout the hitch and falter of his voice.

"Elizabeth?" Thomas calls to the young officer, "Is there a problem?" The heavy-set black man shifts the angle of his weapon, awaiting her next action or order.

The woman, Elizabeth, never lowers her intent stare, seeming to try to stare into Wikus' very soul. His large, heavy set eyes try to beg for lenience, for a single, tiny shred of compassion.

"I lost it!" Donald suddenly pipes, frantically waving one hand in the air to garner the woman's attention. The young prawn timidly shuffles forward, the armed men ringing him, "I…B-Barry is my child. Wi—_Walter_ told me to make sure that the license was kept in a safe place, but I…forgot where I put it?..." Donald offers sheepishly.

Wikus cannot believe the audacity of Donald brazenness to step into the path of potential bullets, nor can he comprehend how on Earth the prawn can possibly think that anyone would fall for such a haphazard, patched-together lie.

"…." Elizabeth's cunning gaze darts between the two prawns. "Well then." With a brisk gesture she rises to her feet, and plants slender hands upon sharp boned hips. "As young parents, I commend your honesty, but really!" She makes a point of raising her voice for the benefit of the three men behind her, "This is _unacceptable_. I can understand your lack of trust, but separate residents will not ensure the best quality of care for your child. You must be diligent!" She waves a finger pointedly in front of Wikus' face, the slender prawn awed by the pitch of her voice and the gusto of motion, "I am willing to ignore this infraction…**this** time."

She pivots sharply, startling Donald, "However!" The young prawn 'eeps' and totters back when she rounds on him, "I expect both of you to be present bright and early in two days when I return with the proper paperwork, and the both of you will sign two copies of a **new**,**replacement **license. I want both of you to reside in the same residence and raise your son together, without the need for well-intentioned deceit, and I trust that you will tidy up this yard in order to meet the qualifications for improving the safety of your young ward." She finally takes a moment to pause and breathe, Wikus in no minor amount of awe at the rush of words and exuberance that exudes from the MNU operative.

"..Yes. Absolutely," Wikus agrees, too stunned to rise to his feet and thank the woman profusely. But something else troubled him. This Elizabeth, clearly, is a bright woman, regardless of her youth and short duration of fieldwork, but yet she ignored the laughable stumble of Wikus' voice and Donald's awkward defense. So what motivated her to put on a show for the officers, when instead she could simply turn Wikus and his son over to MNU for not having the proper paperwork?

Donald practically warps to Wikus' side when Elizabeth and the rest of her team load back into the truck and move on to the next sector. "What happened?" The young prawn gently coaxes Wikus to stand, Barry refusing to relinquish his unbreakable grip, latched onto Wikus for dear life.

Wikus cradles his son to him and allows Donald to pull him into his shack, "I think we just met our first ally." Wikus' laughter must sound hysterical with mad elation, because Donald insists upon guiding Wikus to lie down and rest, the taller green prawn propped against the shut door, guarding the only entrance, and refuses to budge until William knocks upon the door and demands to be let inside.


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Find You Here (3/?)

Author: dreamerchaos

Pairing: ChristopherxWikus.

Rating: Mature overall.

Warnings: Language. Slash between an alien and a human(Or who was once a human, technically…). Gore.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are owned by Peter Jackson. I make no profit by writing this work of fiction.

* * *

"I must say that I am impressed." Elizabeth politely accepts the sealed plastic water bottle which Wikus has dug out from the small cache inside an old ice chest, the prim, properly dressed woman an odd fixture inside his claustrophically small shack. The MNU agent doesn't seem to notice how her rickety seat moans under the strain of her slight frame. She drinks from the bottle, taking tiny measured sips before placing the smooth container upon the rough lopsided tabletop. "You have spruced up your quarters, beyond my expectations." She takes another look around the room, and eyes the corner where Donald has laid a spare nest, "I suspect that you are still a bit overprotective of your young one, since you still won't allow your partner to share your nest, but I will let that slide."

"Thank you." Wikus isn't brave enough to try and sit in the seat opposite from her. He had splinters in odd areas after the last time the three legged chair crumbled underneath his weight.

"You still have your license, correct?"

"Yes." Wikus motions to the tiny metal lunch box partially concealed by the fringe of his nest of blankets and newspaper, "The documents are safe." The prawn rarely allows the tiny 'safe' out of his sight, or out of mind.

Donald putters around the small shack, acting as a dutiful mate and father, gently bouncing Barry in his arms. The tall prawn keeps a wary, marble-bright eye on the strange human female, closely watching her as if waiting for the MNU agent to suddenly leap to her feet and pounce on him like a vampire out of legend.

"Do you ever have a day off?" Wikus asks, his voice lightly teasing.

Elizabeth chuckles, face glowing like a young child's, "Don't get me started!" Her fingers pick at the label of the water bottle, "I can't believe the last six months. Moving from the United States to Johannesburg with a work visa…Long hours…seem as soon as I lay my head down on my pillow, I'm up and at 'm bright and early."

The MNU agent's smile turns poignant. "But in a couple of years, it will all be worth it. It doesn't matter that people look down their nose at me because I'm young, or white, or a woman…I don't care that the other women snicker behind my back because I'm a workaholic and I can't hold onto a good man. I've got bigger, better dreams than resigning myself to a desk and a stuffy husband and two screaming children strapped to my hip just because my dear Mom wants grandbabies."

"A desk job isn't so bad…" Wikus mumbles underneath his breath, remembering what he had taken for granted a year prior to his transformation into a prawn.

Donald stiffens, and Wikus fumbles, "…I mean! It must be nice to have work, and make money."

Elizabeth didn't appear to notice his folly and Wikus breaths a small sigh of relief when she does not become suspicious, or try to connect the dots with the small prawn's unintentional slip. She chuckles. "Yeah…It isn't so bad. But I always wanted to work at becoming an ambassador, so it made sense to work for MNU and develop more fieldwork experience. All I need is enough time, and I can update my resume and get out of here."

"Bigger, better dreams," Wikus can remember how it was to be so young and idealistic. His stomach twists, heart in his throat as he remembers a younger, still so beautiful Tania who had welcomed him at the MNU orientation for their newest promising employees. Wikus had been so nervous, and not knowing any of the other hired men and woman, had skulked about the periphery of the chattering, laughing crowd.

* * *

"_You're such a wallflower!" Tania's vibrant laughter rings in his ears like the melody of chimes. She valiantly pulls at his wrist, "Come on! I'll show you around. Just ignore all the rumors. My father isn't such an ogre." She whispers playfully._

"_B-B-But I…" He digs in his heels, "What should I say to him?" He stutters._

"_Let me do all of the talking." Tania pulls Wikus alongside, and hails her father. Her soft blond hair swings about, a feathery halo floats around her head like a cloud. "Daddy! I want you to meet someone!" _

_

* * *

_

"Ah, thank you, Donald." Wikus accepts his son back, Barry's chatter broken with little happy trills. "_Dad-ddddy!"_

"Ooh, sit down, Donald!" Elizabeth can longer sit back and watch the tall prawn dither and hover in the periphery, "You're making me dizzy. Constantly circling!" Her laughter is not cruel.

Donald hesitates. Elizabeth pats the seat beside her.

"It's okay." Wikus' lowers his voice, a gentle coax.

But Donald does not budge. "….she…is a strange creature."

"Hey!" Elizabeth affects a look of hurt.

"You look funny." Donald continues. "Not like the boys who shot down my friends. You have funny lumps on your chest. You…bounce, putter about everywhere and your voice is like a sharp harmonica when you get riled. And your skull is covered by long…things all tangled together."

"Yeah? Well…you're _green_." Elizabeth mutters childishly. She pats fretfully at her frizzy hair. "And I can't control the humidity!"

Wikus rolls his eyes. "She is a female." At the young woman's glare, he quickly edits his words, "She is _Elizabeth_. That is what makes her unique. Special. Like how I have one blue eye, and one gold. Special like you, Donald. You gather all kinds of little pretty stones and things, and hang the baubles on strings inside your shed so that the rays of the sun make them sparkle."

"…William says to be careful. That she's MNU. And…I've seen neighbors taken by MNU, and they never come back."

Barry gurgles, gnawing avidly on Wikus' tough finger. Wikus flexes the trapped appendage, and tickles his son's chin.

"William worries." Wikus knows that the black and white prawn cares about their safety, but secretly, the small prawn also wonders if their elder is somewhat jealous of the two prawns sharing a shack, while he has to live alone, the larger prawn holding little company beyond Wikus and Donald.

Wikus dares to glance out of the corner of his eye, stealing a look in Donald's direction. _'One wonders if William's worries conceal a deeper affection for one __**particular**__ neighbor.' _It would make sense for the older prawn's hovering nature, and his irritation whenever Donald risked being sighted every time he ventured outside the District. On countless occasions, Wikus has also dared to squeeze through the thick fence line to leave a small metal flower for Tania. Only once has William ever gone searching for him in particular, and only the one time he happened to be around to catch Wikus in the act of wriggling in between the tight, jagged broken teeth of the slashed fence.

Wikus hasn't tried escaping ever since, not wanting to endure for a second time the humiliation of being dragged by the root of his antenna through the District and back to their neighborhood, William hurling vile insults and threats while Wikus keened and apologized profusely, their various neighbors rolling across their yards with delighted mirth.

"He sounds like a good friend." Elizabeth manages to smile once again, relived by the lack of discontent and insults.

"He's bossy." Donald mutters.

"Can be a bit of a brat at times," Wikus helpfully adds. Elizabeth laughs behind her hand.

"Fooker!" Barry cheeps.

"Barry!"

Elizabeth startles them all with a series of snorts, a shock of unbridled laughter, and immediately slaps her hands over her face in mortification.

"You sound like a piggy!" Donald crows, pointing accusingly.

"Oh be quiet!" Elizabeth moans, thumps her forehead upon the surface of the table and tries to hide her tomato red face in the folds of her arms.

"Piggy pig!" Barry mimics with a bright ripple giggles, Wikus' 'little parrot'. Donald howls with laughter.

* * *

"Now watch." Wikus scratches the letters into the dirt, Barry huddled in between his crossed legs, in awe of the strange symbols his father stencils into the hard packed soil. "B-A-R-R-Y. And this spells…"

"Me!"

Wikus laughs, "Yes!" He says, pride suffusing his words, "Very good, Barry!"

"Barry! Barry!"

"All right…" Wikus swipes away the human calligraphy, lest any MNU agents stumble across the evidence. It would not do for anyone to realize that 'Walter Pemberton' could write and read, not while the MNU office showing no signs of readiness to give up their search for the invaluable biological marvel.

And Wikus would die before they even dared lay their hands on his son.

'_When did it all change?' _He allows Barry to manhandle the long stick, his son scratching a crude caricature of his name, _'When did I start looking at them as, 'those humans'? When did I stop thinking of them as Mom and Dad? When did they start to be known as the enemy?'_

With William distracted with chasing after Donald for another countless time to try and keep the young prawn within the District, Wikus seized his chance. With Barry laid down for a nap, Wikus dared the long trek to the dwelling that he and Tania had once shared.

Much to his dismay and surprise, he found the front yard overgrown with weeds, and strangely no vehicle in the driveway. When he peered indoors through the stained windows, he found that the rooms were silent and unoccupied, furniture lightly coated with dust.

His claws tap across the window sill, Wikus pondered the strange mystery. Was Tania now living with her father? Was that rat-bastard whispering more lies into her ear?

Mournfully, he was forced to abandon his vain search for answers, more questions bubble to the surface faster than he can scrounge up answers. Like a thief, a stranger outside the home he knew and loved, he skulked within the shadows, cutting across yards and the interstate in the dead of night to avoid any human or vehicle traffic.

Barry still slept on when he closed the door behind him.

Donald, half asleep, guarding the slumbering young one, raised his head at Wikus' entry. "You went outside the District." The prawn's antennas droop in a sullen pout. "William smacked me on the head when he caught me trying to leave. Why didn't he catch you?" Donald scratches at a plate on the back of his skull, indicating where William had struck him.

"I'm sure he didn't hit you **that** hard." Wikus knew that William held back from seriously injuring Donald whenever his temper flared and he was pushed as far as to strike the younger prawn, the loud crack of his hand against carapace startled the young prawn more than it truly hurt him. Wikus lies down in his nest; Barry sleepily burrows towards the new, familiar source of heat. Wikus drags his fingertips down Barry's back, pinching the soft yellow cloth of the oversized children's shirt, "And William doesn't catch me because unlike **someone **I know, I don't casually announce 'I'm going outside today' whenever I feel the need to treasure hunt beyond the perimeter of the fence."

Donald mumbles something.

"I heard that." Wikus' grin is hidden underneath the pile of blankets. Donald finally shuffles over to his nest, pouting, but Wikus knows that by morning, he will be forgiven for leaving Donald behind, and William will be forgiven when he offers something shiny to the young prawn as an apology.

* * *

Wikus holds out his arms, and Barry runs into his embrace.

The little prawn whimpers as the MNU armed officers swarm their neighborhood, another quarterly routine inspection. Barry all too well remembers the traumatic moment when his father had been held at gunpoint, another armed man staring down at him, as cold and untouchable as a marble idol.

Wikus coos gently, sitting underneath the shade of his shack. Donald, thankfully, hides inside, mostly due to Wikus urging him to stay out of sight and to not cause a scene, the prawn still very protective of his roommate and young son.

"Sir," A young MNU agent speedily writes down a series of symbols across his clipboard, thick white paper stack firm and stationary. "Do you have any contraband or weapons on your property?"

"No." Wikus offers no protest when the armed men begin tossing the few toys and debris peppered throughout his small yard, the men searching in vain for any illegal devices.

"Everything under control?" Elizabeth taps her pen on the rim of her clipboard. She can hear Donald inside the shack, a clatter of worried chirrs. She halts the men before they can open the door. "Leave it. I've searched here before. They do not have a history of violence or tickets."

"Are you sure?" The MNU agent frowns, looking Elizabeth up and down, "I mean, it must be hard, having to sift through the trash just to make sure there is nothing to hide. Not want to risk breaking a nail?"

The two armed officers' snicker behind the male agent's back.

Elizabeth's expression darkens. "Why don't you focus on doing your job, _rookie_, before you try to have the balls to question how I do mine?"

The ricochet of bullets cuts off any further slurs. The MNU men and woman drop to the ground and shield their heads, clipboards and paperwork scattered.

"Fooking Nigerians!" The officers cover the two agents, guns at the ready. Barry keens, while Wikus curls around him while he shoves his back against the sturdy wall of the shack. Inside, Donald clacks in alarm, but he is smart enough to remain inside and out of danger.

"Stay down!" Elizabeth curses as the armored officer pushes her flat, his heavier bulk a shield that lies on top of her. "Infantry 1! Requesting assistance! Hostile fire!" The man shouts for reinforcements into his handheld radio.

The rising gale of incoming helicopters appears to do their job, and manage to scare off the gang members. The trio of choppers trails the whoops and catcalls of the young men hanging out the passenger doors of the stolen souped up truck.

Once the calm begins to set in, the male agent suddenly breaks down with a low wail, shaking violently. The roar of bullets, the screams, and the roar of violence too much for him, and succeeds in a glass-like shatter of his courage.

Elizabeth grunts with relief when the soldier crawls off her, allowing an intake of breath through her sore chest cavity. "Get him out of here." She growls in disgust. The other soldier helps the MNU agent onto his feet, propping him up as he begins to half-walk, half-carry the young man back towards the armored truck.

"I'm fine." Dust clouds puff off her clothing as she pats herself down. "Just…Just go and secure the truck. Make sure that a medic is on standby. I don't think Stanford will be helping us to finish our inspection."

"Yes ma'am."

Barry starts to calm down as the choppers disappear over the rooftops, summoned by another distress call from a distant team of officers.

"God damn it." Elizabeth mutters, crouched down and in vain tries to scrape up all of the paper documents scattered throughout the dirt. Wikus assists, his claws proving slightly difficult when he tries to pick up the thin, delicate leafs of paper. Barry stretches out his tiny claws towards the soft ripple and crack of the breeze across the surface of paper, the glow of stark white paper a natural lure for a curious sprawn.

"I'll never find the D-79 spreadsheet in this mess…" The MNU agent mumbles to herself, packing handfuls of paper into an irregular pile at her feet.

Without thinking ― _'No, when do you ever bother to stop and __**think**__, Wikus' _― he recognizes the format of the illusive document, scoops up the tarnished spreadsheet, and holds it out for the young woman.

They both freeze. The paperwork hangs frozen in between their outstretched hands.

Barry snags the illusive piece of paper, and happily gums at the corner, the corner of the leaflet becoming sticky and bunched in between his soft mandibles.

A strange combination of elation and sadness spreads across Elizabeth's features. She raises her gaze from Barry to meet his.

"We finally meet, Mr. Van der Merwe."


	4. Chapter 4

itle: Find You Here (4/?)

Author: dreamerchaos

Pairing: ChristopherxWikus.

Rating: Mature overall.

Warnings: Language. Slash between an alien and a human(Or who was once a human, technically…). Gore.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are owned by Peter Jackson. I make no profit by writing this work of fiction.

* * *

"You must have hit your head." Wikus bends down and swiftly scoops Barry up, ignoring his son's whines, "I don't know that name." He backs up towards the door of his shack.

Elizabeth remains poised in her crouch, eyes following his. A peculiar smile paints her lips. "I think we both know who I am talking to."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." The door swings open behind him as his shoulder blades force the frame to shift. "Please leave."

"Please." She tries to halt him, her hand held out in entreaty. "Please, wait-"

A large clawed hand snaps forward out of the interior of the shack like a cobra and circles her wrist.

Donald snarls, and yanks the smaller female into the interior of the dark shack.

"Donald!" Wikus gasps, jerking away from the rattling prawn. Barry keens when Elizabeth stumbles and falls to her knees onto the floor of the shack.

Donald slams the shack door shut with a harsh clang.

"Wikus…" He whispers, pained, "Wikus. I…I can break her neck. And…hide the body. She will never let slip your secret." He waits, trembling, awaiting Wikus' word to proceed.

Wikus moans with distress. Donald echoes.

Wikus, and especially Donald, has grown attached to the young woman in the last year; particularly Donald, finding himself oddly fascinated by the confusing, but beguiling female. The thought of her betraying Wikus to MNU, accompanied by the notion of a hushed murder in order to silence her, unsettled them both beyond measure.

Elizabeth shudders, long hair a tangled mess of chestnut curls around her wide, watery eyes. "…can you?" She asks, "Can you do it? Is that what you are willing to do in order to protect your secret, Wikus? When I suspected your existence half a year ago and yet I didn't inform MNU?"

"That's a lie!" Donald sounds desperate, hands quaking as they curl underneath his chin while he keens, "You could not have possibly known!"

"Unusual eye pigmentation," The MNU agent mumbles. The rattles on, "Rare…But nothing to lend to substantial confirmation. Higher brain function noted in comparison to surrounding population, a more significant note. Familiarity with MNU operations and handling of documentation is conclusive."

She raises her head, a sad glimmer in her bright eyes, "But the most important clue was the half-destroyed evidence of the human language scattered throughout the yard. You should really teach Barry not to practice writing in the dirt outside the shack."

Barry trills at his name. The little prawn bobs his head back and forth between his foster father and protector. "…daddy?" He whines, little claws knead at Wikus' chest.

"Why?" Wikus squeezes his eyes shut, frustrated and in despair, "This does not make any sense! Why didn't you go to your superior officers with your findings? You could have been promoted. You said you wanted to get out of MNU. You can't possibly make me believe that you would pass up your meal ticket."

"True." Elizabeth isn't so shallow as to color her words with pretty lies, "It would have been easy to go to your father-in-law Piet Smit and deliver the wonderful news."

Her bottom lip quivers. "…but…" Her eyes water, "I….I can't. How can I put anyone—Prawn, human, my brother, my neighbor, into the hands of those monsters. Those…those _things_ down in their labs, the scientists, they practically salivate at the idea of getting their hands on you."

Elizabeth shakes her head; the motion scatters droplets of unhindered tears. "And I got to know you so well. I heard you laugh. I heard you curse. I watched your joy, your frustration. How could I betray such a thing and live with myself during the aftermath?"

"Countless others have." Wikus isn't so easily convinced, no matter how much it aches to look into her hurt expression. "What makes you any different?"

Elizabeth stutters. "I…" She bites her lip. "…all I can ask is for you to trust me."

"_**Never."**_

The door smashes open for a second time. William is suddenly stomping through the doorway before the metal frame can swing closed.

"MNU," William wraps his talons around her throat. Elizabeth wheezes, lifted off her knees, hanging like a kitten within his grasp, "MNU spreads lies."

Donald wails softly. "Nooo…" He beseeches.

"Your infatuation blinds you!" William rears around, hissing at the young prawn. "Lose your fascination with this creature! She works for MNU! She will eventually betray you!"

Wikus claws at William's wrist. "I worked for MNU!" He tries to reason with the huge prawn. They needed to **wait** and **listen** before they are left with a body to lie and stink up the shack.

"Yes." William does acknowledge the truth of the fact. Umber eyes glow in the dark of the shack, but his claws do not slacken, "And you will forever live with that shame. But look at you….you could have left a tiny, abandoned prawn to die smothered underneath the filth and garbage. Instead you picked him up and cared for him as your own. You proved yourself."

"So give her the same chance!" Wikus challenged.

"Your circumstances are far different!" Elizabeth's lips begin to turn a pale shade of blue, air narrowly squeezing past the large prawn's tight grip.

"…please.." Donald whispers. Begging.

"You have to trust us!" Wikus' voice rises into a high pitched shout.

"What you ask me to do is look aside as you commit suicide!" William roars. Barry shrieks in the background, and hides his face, trying to deafen the raised voices.

Donald's fists shake against his hips. He looks at his oldest friend for the longest moment before finally, _"If you kill her, I'll hate you forever!"_ His shout bounces upon the wood walls of the shack.

William jolts back, betrayed, eyes wide with agonized offense.

Elizabeth crumbles onto her belly with a hand pressed to her throat and a rattling wheeze whoops from within her chest as she gulps like a fish on dry land. Lung sacs expand and savor the musty yet dear quality of withheld oxygen.

William's hands curl into bitter fists, entire frame rattles with undirected rage and upset.

He is quick to properly direct his ire. **"You," **He snarls down at the female. Elizabeth shudders and shrinks back, "If you betray them, I will find you. I will haunt you. I will track you down to the ends of the planet. And then, I shall not be kind. You will beg…You will want mercy. And perhaps, maybe, I will be kind and comply when you beg for death."

* * *

Elizabeth returns after several long months away.

"Surprised to see me?" She sits down beside him against the wall of the shed. Both prawn and human savor the gentle warmth of the sun and the cool breeze, a rare pleasant day amongst the trash kingdom of District 9.

Wikus blinks. Acknowledging her arrival with no little amount of surprise, "You are either brave, or a fool."

She grins, a show of bravado. "Only six months left." Elizabeth stretches her long legs, relieving the tension in her sour muscles. "William will be happy to see me gone."

"He means well."

"I'm not disagreeing." She admits. "But I do have a healthy sense of preservation too. The less he and I cross paths, the better."

"Where will you go after MNU?"

"My university back home has an internship program abroad," Elizabeth smiles when Barry totters over, the little prawn chattering unintelligibly to her, little hands resting upon the agent's knees and his clawed feet secured atop her shoes. She laughs and gently clasps his tiny fingers between hers, "It will take time and a lot of applications to be filled out, but with a kick ass resume, I'm sure to be accepted."

"I'm sure that you'll do great."

Elizabeth picks at a frayed thread along the hem of her gray blouse. "Thanks."

Wikus twiddles his fingers in uncomfortable silence.

"Elizabeth." Wikus finally scrounges forth the courage to ask the question that has been bothering him for the last year. "I need to ask you something…"

"Sure!" Elizabeth's knees bob, much to Barry's utter delight, the little prawn certain this was a new game of how long he can hold on while he is bounced up and down.

"My…wife…" Elizabeth's face grows concerned as his voice hitched. "Tania…I need to know…is she okay? Is she still living in Johannesburg?"

Barry moans in upset when Elizabeth ceases to bump her knees up and down, the ride now over. "…Wikus.." The MNU agent hesitates, "…how much do you know about what happened in regards to your wife after you disappeared?"

"Little to nothing," The prawn accepts Barry's weight as the young prawn crawls into his lap now that his playmate no longer wishes to entertain him. "I ventured home on more than one occasion to leave her a gift to let her know that I was still alive, but other than that…" He shrugs.

Elizabeth won't meet his eyes.

"Elizabeth." He begs. "Tell me."

She takes a moment to gather her words. "Wikus…" Elizabeth pulls her knees up to her chest, arms wrapped tight around her folded legs, "Smit's daughter suffered a miscarriage."

His world tilts on its axis. He collapses against the side of the shack, his strength fleeing from him. Alarmed, Barry trilled.

"Daddy?" Barry murmured. "Daddy okay?"

"Y-Yes…" The air has fled from Wikus' lung sacs_. 'Liar,'_ a traitorous voice whispers. He can't stop shaking.

"Was…was the baby mine?"

Elizabeth's eyelids flutter shut. Her head bobs, chin aquiver.

A sob colors his next question. "Was it a boy?"

She shakes her head sharply.

"A little girl…" His eyes burn, a hot clear bead of agony lances down his cheek, his single blue eye weeps tears of bittersweet joy, "My baby. My little angel…." In his head he can envision a crooked baby-tooth smile and shimmering gold pigtails. He chokes with sorrow.

Barry's upturned palms capture the descent of warm raindrops, the young prawn chirrs in surprise at the sudden downpour.

"She couldn't take it." Elizabeth wishes she could find the courage to wrap her arms around Wikus' shoulders, the slender prawn's head lowered in grief, large blue t-shirt and frayed black shorts quake while he shudders. But…she knows that it isn't her warm, slender arms that Wikus' aches for. "She lost her husband. Then her child….she said the District took everything from her."

"She left." Wikus whispers. It wasn't a question.

Elizabeth nods. "She has family up north. From the office gossip, she won't even take phone calls or letters from her father."

Wikus chokes around a spark of dark humor. "Bastard didn't deserve her." He mutters, "Got what he had coming, after he lied so many times to his own daughter."

"I'm so sorry." Elizabeth hides her face against her knees. "I…wish things were different."

"_**Don't."**_His growl startles her something fierce. Wikus tries to gentle his voice. "Don't. Yes, things could be different. Both my daughter and she could have _died_. Or another scenario, my child might have had no father, and then no mother to raise her. And my fooking father-in-law could have raised my child." Wikus shudders, not wanting to envision such a nightmare, a new version of purgatory, to know that his beloved child was under the care of such a deceitful, powerful man.

"…Yeah," Elizabeth offers a brave smile. "You're right." She agrees, "Look forward, and forget about the past, huh?"

"Yeah," Wikus' head falls back to thump against the wall of the shed, "Easier to say and hear it then it is to follow that advice. But slowly, one day at a time. That's all that I have left."

Barry chirrs and tugs harshly at Wikus' collar.

Wikus yelps from the surprisingly strong grip, "And of course I have you!" The adult prawn laughs. Barry chirps in affirmation.

"You're really good for him." Elizabeth groans as she rises to her feet, her posterior sore from the rough uneven ground, "You and Donald are superior guardians. Amazing how many scientists speculate that prawns abandon their young as soon as they can acquire their own food without an adult's assistance. All these scientists would have to do is observe their behavior in the field, and many theories would disintegrate."

"Speaking of Donald," Elizabeth looks over her shoulder as Wikus speaks directly to her back, "Have you noticed..." Wikus tries to determine how to proceed.

A flush of pink brushes the apples of her cheeks. Elizabeth ducks her head, "Yeah…" She begins to pace, "I've noticed."

Wikus can understand her concern and confusion, not to mention the hot embarrassment. "He's young." He tries to validate the reasons for Donald's infatuation and defense of the young human woman, "It's kind of cute. His very first crush."

"Don't let William hear you say that." Elizabeth isn't blind to the fact that the elder prawn secretly holds Donald in affectionate regard, even though Donald is too enamored with Elizabeth to realize that William hovers in the background, dismayed, torn that the younger prawn doesn't notice nor reciprocates his affections.

Elizabeth huffs. "It's unexpected." She shifts restlessly, "I'm turned off by his attention, and yet, I feel honored. It's so easy to look at him and see the thick, alien body and unusual features and rear back in disdain. But…how can I dwell on such a feeling, when he makes me laugh when he does something funny, or he gives me one of his hanging baubles as a gift?"

She whips around, "But you know what really upsets me?" Her voice rises, "I'm of the firm belief that we should give anyone a chance, to prove that their affection is honest and true. I should not focus on their beauty, or status, or their sex. Yet I know what people would say behind my back and to my face if I were in a relationship with an extraterrestrial."

"I can't say that I wasn't any different." Wikus admits, "Who is to say that I still don't dwell on such prejudices? I love Tania. My wife. My woman. I…have a hard time picturing myself in…**that **sort of relationship with one of them, no matter that I have friends amongst them."

"But how do you know if you won't give them a chance?" She asks, face hardened with determination, "You told me about how you and Christopher struggled to reach the command shuttle after you had broken into MNU. Didn't he refuse to leave you behind? Didn't he promise to come back for you?"

"He was honor-bound." Wikus insists.

"Bullshit!" Elizabeth snaps, "Is it always so simple, Wikus? Stop dancing around the topic. Can't you just accept that, maybe, Christopher cared about you as more than an ally? Is it really so hard to accept that it broke his heart to leave you?"

"He only knew me for three days!"

"But you said it felt like a lifetime." Her words ring with wisdom far beyond her age.

"Fook," Wikus drags a hand across his face, "Can't we pretend that this conversation never happened?"

"Oh no, you're not getting out of it that easily! Get back here right now!"

* * *

Wikus shushes Barry when the young prawn tries to follow his father outside. Wikus gently shuts the door behind him and steps out into his front yard. "What's going on?" The MNU taskforce is strangely restless; more armored men encircle the heavy tanks, the teams hanging together in tight niches.

"It's the Nigerians." Elizabeth inches towards him, keeping her voice down so that the armed officers cannot hear. "They're making a show of reclaiming their territory back from MNU. Word is that they feel threatened by the move to District 10 next month, since they'll lose all their customers."

"You mean lose all of their alien weapons they bartered from their extraterrestrial customers."

She nods her head tersely.

"I should find Donald and William." Wikus worries about his two neighbors, "I need to warn them to stay nearby and to keep a sharper eye out for trouble."

"It's all under control, Wikus." She assures him with a confident look and a calming smile. "Go to your son. I'll be sure to point them in your direction should I see them."

"Thank you." Wikus knows that she is right and he should worry less about picking his way through the tight mesh of shacks and littered streets and just remain home with Barry; more than likely he would miss both prawns entirely during the course of his search when they were already on their way home.

"Don't like loud men!" Barry pipes when Wikus returns indoors, jumping forward and quick to curl his arms and legs around his father's leg.

Two years old and Barry still clung to him like a little parasite. "Affectionate little bugger." He mutters with pride, and gently tugs at his son's antenna.

"Wanna play!"

"Hush." Wikus lightly chides, "Not for a while. It's not safe outside. We should rest while the air is still cool and the wind blows soft."

"Don't want a nap."

"Well, I need one-"

_**BOOOOOM**_

A sharp explosion and lick of hot air blasts the exterior of the shed.

Barry's shrieks follow Wikus as he crashes to the dirt-packed floor.

"_Barry!" _His son continues with a prolonged wail. Wikus dives for him, a flood of relief to see that Barry is uninjured, only petrified out of his mind by the furls of flames in the window and the black glower of a thick choking fog of smoke.

"_Daaaadddyyyy!" _

Wikus snarls as the terror seeps from his son, the pheromones of a distraught sprawnling enrages him like no other. Brutally he squelches that potent rage and directs his energy into guarding his son.

"Come with me!" He swings his son into his arms, "it's okay! We're safe. I just need to look outside and check that everyone else is all right!" and rushes to the door, kicking it open.

Outside men and women scream, faces charred and forearms scorched from the immense heat while less injured agents struggle to get close to the hellfire that surrounds a large metal, blackened skeleton as they aim portable fire extinguishers towards the wreckage of a smoldering helicopter that has crashed half a mile down the road.

A war zone floods the streets while bloodied officers try to regain their wits. Several men and women collapse face first to the blood-soaked ground, their bodies peppered with the sting of a barrage of bullets. Nigerians howl like lunatics bay to the moon. They wave their guns like spears, bullets pumping from the barrels with every tense of a forefinger.

"Oh my god!" Elizabeth startles him by grabbing Wikus painfully by the shoulders. "Get back inside! It's the Nigerians! They have an aerial assault weapon!" Gunfire riots throughout the District, the wails of enraged prawns reach the heavens, men and women stumble for the safety of the tanks, screaming for aid into their radios.

"The shacks are on fire!" His neighbors bellow in alarm and scurry around the destroyed shacks to try and salvage what they can.

"Barry. Let go!" Wikus drops his son, pushing him in the direction of the shack. "Get inside!" Barry wails but obediently hops towards home, with every step peeking over his shoulder plaintively until he is safely indoors.

"_Watch out!" _Men scream.

Small green seedpods are hurled in succession into the air and begin to fall down from the sky.

"Grenades!" Wikus shouts, and throws Elizabeth under the cover of the armored tank alongside him.

The explosions pepper rooftops and the armored carriers. Men and women howl in agony, several torn to shreds by the shrapnel. The prawns fare much better, their quicker instincts and speed allow many to scramble to safety in the nick of time.

"It's an ambush…" Elizabeth's hands are sliced by the hot burning shrapnel as she clambers out from underneath the tank. She stumbles onto her feet, "I…I have to call this in―"

"Just stay down!"

"_People are dying!"_ In the middle of her struggles to rip her radio out of its holster, Elizabeth misses the figure lurking in the shadows.

Wikus doesn't.

In slow motion, Wikus throws out his hand, screaming for her to get down.

Elizabeth turns in alarm to his warning shout, her face falling in horror.

The Nigerian who hides like a rat within the shadow grins with cruel promise, tobacco yellow teeth smile like a devil, the automatic rifle level with his hip as he aims and fires.

"_**ELIZABETH!"**_


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Find You Here (5/?)

Author: dreamerchaos

Pairing: ChristopherxWikus.

Rating: NC-17 overall.

Warnings: Language. Slash between an alien and a human(Or who was once a human, technically…). Gore.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are owned by Peter Jackson. I make no profit by writing this work of fiction.

* * *

The MNU agent's petite frame jerks forward and back like a marionette with its lattice of strings sliced. Surprise filters across her pale face, the radio teeters from a trembling hand.

Wikus wails in reaction to the large blossoms of blood red roses that seep through the torso of her white blouse.

His howl ripples throughout the street, all of a sudden on his feet, his vision stained crimson, molten rage incites him to leap across the space that divides them. Elizabeth hasn't hit the ground before Wikus is on top of the gang member.

"Fooker!" Wikus' claws gouge the man's cheek, sink down through the overlay mottled black flesh and layers of slick red tissue. With a snarl, Wikus smashes the back of the man's head against the shack. Then he does it again. And again. "Fooker!" He screams. **"Fook you!"**

He doesn't stop until the side of the shack wall is smeared with gray and red matter, thick clots of jiggling flesh and shards of bone patter to the ground. The gun clatters to his feet, eyes rolled back in their sockets when Wikus drops the body in disgust.

He's dead.

But still, it isn't good enough.

Wikus screams, a mournful howl to the hot sphere in the sky. It's not enough to crack open the disgusting meat bag's eggshell thin skull. That feeling won't replace the blossom of heat and fire and pain, the agonized wails and sobs of pain.

"**WIKUS!" **William arrives like a macabre guardian angel. Arms loop around the smaller prawn's chest. "Calm yourself! He cannot hurt you now!"

Wikus shudders, claws rake down his large friend's biceps. "He already did!" He wails.

William drags Wikus away, the smaller prawn's legs kick and buck as he snarls and sobs in bitter rage.

Donald is crumbled near Elizabeth, knees resting inches from her head. The gentle green prawn shakily brushes curled tendrils of chestnut hair away from her pale sweat dotted face as he tries to offer assistance.

He looks up at Wikus and William when they approach, "S-She hates it when her hair gets mussed or dirty," as he tries to pile her hair outside the large pool of growing blood.

Elizabeth wheezes, a cherry red grimace of straight teeth, bubbles of blood seep from the corners of her lips. "D-D-Don…ald…"

Donald keens in a vain trill of comfort. He continues his watch and guard while tracing a gentle rhythm of soft petting motions across her forehead. He moans as his bloodied hands streak her forehead with a crisscross of crimson.

"Oh god," Wikus drops to his knees on the opposite side of Donald. He quickly applies pressure to the ugly gaping holes in her stomach. No matter where he tries to apply pressure, blood gushes underneath his palms, fingers slick with the copious fluids, "Help me…" Wikus pleads, gagging at the large open mouths of the bullet entry sites. He could fit two fingers into an individual wound. _"Help me…"_

"Do something.." Donald drags his hands down William's thick leg. He peers up at his friend, begging, "Do something. Help her."

William trembles, "T-There's too much blood."

Wikus won't stop trying to staunch the bleeding. _'It's not fair,' _He grimaces as her heaving torso squelches, a mottled sack of flesh dotted with open pockets and bits of organs peeking through, _'She's not even twenty five years old. She's going back home in three months to continue to go to school….it's her dream to become an ambassador…'_

Watery blue eyes tick over in his direction. "…g-g-g-gu-guess y-your s-se-secret dies h-here…" Elizabeth tries to laugh no matter how much the effort obviously hurts.

"Shut up." William growls, crouched beside her, "Save your strength, you stupid human!"

"…hey…Wikus?..."

"Elizabeth…" Donald sobs, "Please….just hold on.."

Elizabeth's trembling hand cups the back of Wikus'. She manages to give them a small squeeze.

"…no….regrets...d-don't..look..back…'kay..?" The young woman whispers, face twisted with concentration as she pleads for Wikus to listen and understand. Her grip tightens as she clings to him. "….d-d-don't….just…keep..looking for-forward…."

"No! Stop and listen, Elizabeth!" Wikus continues to press down upon the wounds, "Listen! Sirens! Someone's coming. They'll get you to a hospital. You're going to be fine. You're an ornery brat when you want to be, and you'll have the nurses running around and falling to your bidding in no time."

Donald's head and shoulders collapse and hunch, and he quakes as he sobs, eyes dry but his expression terribly, utterly broken.

"E-Elizabeth…?"

William shuddered, antennas dipped as he crawls towards Donald. The younger prawn first tries to shove him back, but William insists and wraps him up within his arms. A low, never ending haunting wail thrums from the depths of the green prawn's chest.

"Elizabeth?" Wikus twists around to look at her.

Glassy, doll-like eyes stare unfocused upwards, the reflection of billows of ink black smoke ripple across the huge vacant pupils as overturned vehicles and the burning helicopter wreckage smolders. Her slack hand slithers bonelessly from atop his when he jolts in alarm.

"Noooo.." Wikus cups her cheeks and gives her a good shake. "Don't do this to me.."

"_Wikus," _William is trying to pull Donald to his feet but the young prawn doesn't have the will or the strength to try and make a stand, "Wikus, we need to go." The sirens are a high pitched scream as they close in with frightening speed.

Wikus is numb to the prawn's pleas. He traces the MNU agent's slack, reposed face with a shudder of a laugh. "You always have a ready smile…" He outlines the curl of her lips, Elizabeth's slight upturned lips frozen in time. He carefully reaches up and coaxes her eyelids to close and cover her vacant pupils. With her hair swimming around her head and one hand curled upon her stomach, if one ignored the wounds and gore, Elizabeth appeared to be in a deep slumber. Like a modern sleeping beauty.

"Wikus! They're coming!" William cuffs him with the harsh outcry, "We can't stay here! Think of your son!" He uses a harsh tactic, but a tried and true one to bring his friend out of his comatose state.

Wikus staggers to his feet and almost trips, but William holds him up. Together, they manage to prop Donald and hurry to Wikus' shack. The door swings shut scant seconds before MNU security vehicles careen around the corner while their engines roar like reined beasts.

* * *

William attends to the younger prawns while Barry huddles underneath his nest, bewildered by the metallic scent of blood and upset atmosphere that suffocates the small room.

Wikus wishes to embrace and comfort his son, but he is hypnotized by the dry flakes of blood that coats his claws like thin obscene gloves.

William finds a bowl and makes the long, skulking journey past the MNU security vehicles to fill the shoddy bowl with water from a pump half a mile away.

With a medium sized piece of cloth damped with the cool slightly muddy water, William begins a slow and patient process of swipe and brush, with a painfully stead fasted mindfulness he begins cleansing their hands and wrists separately of the clotted human blood.

He finishes his silent attendance with Wikus' hands and wrists first. Donald, slumped against the wall, sitting upon his nest, doesn't acknowledge or decline William's help. After he is done cleaning the younger prawn's palms, William hesitates a moment before he lays his forehead against Donald's, not moving for a long stretch of minutes before he finally sighs and sits back.

"I'll get rid of these." He drops the bloodied cloth into the half full bowl of water and rises to stand with the container carefully balanced between his claw tips.

Wikus, his head hanging between his shoulders, slumps down further. Donald keens, sliding sideways and presses his warm shoulder into Wikus.

"….daddy?" Wikus barely twitches when his son whimpers.

Donald and his heavy bulk don't allow Wikus to shift. His throat squeezes tight, choking around a rattle of soft wheeping cries.

Barry drags a blanket with him, the dark blue fabric folded over his shoulders and across his head as he waddles towards his father. As if it were a security blanket, Barry crawls into Wikus' lap, hiding underneath the coils of his large sheet. Wikus dredges forth a bare minumum of muscle and curls his arms around his cocooned son, hunches over Barry, and silently counts the frantic tic of a small robin-flutter heart beat and the soft wheeze of air across gills.

William returns after dumping the soiled cloth and clotted water, narrowly avoiding the security detail that combs the District after the horrific disaster. The Nigerians meanwhile strut like proud cocks amongst their hens, gloating since no witnesses come forward to reveal their hand in the massacre. "They're removing the bodies." William confides, his two charges hunched against the wall, Barry fitfully trying to resist sleep, restless under Wikus' second-nature comforting strokes down his back.

"…I hate them." Donald shudders. "…I hate.._hate_…" He snarls, the laughter of those vile young Nigerians haunt him like the never-ending cackle of wild hyenas chase a gazelle.

William says nothing. Instead, he drags their thick nests over and pads the dense material around their legs, bundling his charges up as if he can smother them under thick swatches of cotton and conceal them from harm.

Wikus blinks sleepily, his strength waned. "William?" Fatigue settled in and hooks its fangs deep, body and mind sluggish from the numbness of shock.

William hushes him. His hands stray over Donald's shoulders and unresponsive face. A strange murkiness hides his face amongst the shadows, but his eyes glow in the dark, overly bright, demon lanterns that burn like bulbous lightning bugs. "It will be dark soon. I need both of you to stay here."

"Where are you going?" Wikus asks.

William heatedly shushes him. _"Stay here."_ His commanding growl causes Wikus to drop his head submissively.

The large black and white prawn clambers to his feet. "I can't fix what has happened." William steps away, backing towards the door, "but by the Queen, I will not let the guilty escape unpunished. I'm going to protect my **family**."

Donald trills, confused. "William…" He stretches forward his hand.

William chatters a mantra of purrs and growls. The door swings open behind him. "Don't follow me." He commands.

The door quietly bumps shut. Inside the dark shack, the two prawns quiver, sensing a foreboding chill in the air that isn't stirred by the cold breath of the night time wind.

* * *

In the earliest hours of morning, the prostitutes begin to scream.

Their shrieks aren't so unusual, and it doesn't surprise anyone when no one answers the frantic women.

Things change course drastically when the women begin to beat upon resident doors, with their eyes bloodshot and faces soaked with sweat and hair wild, the prostitutes look half-mad, like banshees.

"_They're dead!" _They wail as men and women stumble out of their beds, woken by the shrieks of terror. "They're dead, they're dead, _they're dead_!" Dropping to their knees, they rock and moan, while their pimps lie scattered and cold to the touch inside their shacks.

Once called onto the scene, the uniformed men break down the doors to the separate living quarters on the edge of the District, sweeping their guns left and right, all too aware that the notorious gang members reside here.

The police officers pale, gag and stumble from the foul rooms, bend over with their heads between their knees and retch with long wet heaves.

It's a psychopath's wet dream inside the shed. A perverse butcher shop laid out with its finest cuts of meat.

Like a gruesome Christmas tale, glistening intestines hang like wreathes of twinkling cherry dotted lights, the beads of blood and specks of shit drip from the ceiling. The gang members lay sprawled with their abdomens flayed open, a bright sopping orchid of ravaged organs and ridged yellow fat and tissue.

In death their faces stretch frozen in a post-mortem grimace of horror, cheeks split vertical, skin sheared to the bone. Pools of blood clot in the caverns where their eyes once sat.

One of the officers moans in horror when he stumbles across the gang members' missing eyeballs, turning away from the bowl on the table, the pink and white orbs staring back at him.

The coroner and his attendances begin the process of bagging the bodies once the police are finished gathering witness statements ― although there are few who have heard or seen anything ― scant evidence tagged and sent off to forensics offices.

"This one tried to crawl away." A senior officer stepped around the thick, wide trail of blood, tracking the groove in the dust that leads back to the shed, "You see here? He was on his belly. Someone dragged him by his feet back towards the shed."

Here and there the officer can discern marks in the dirt where the main tried to claw his way free, fingernails slicing a trail while he is ripped back into the hellish butcher shop where the rest of his gang are being gutted alive.

The younger officer swallows back the urge to vomit, his face ghost pale. "…their legs were broken." Hinting to a personal vendetta, "Someone wanted to take his time."

"N-No one heard or saw anything?"

"The neighbors were asleep, and the pimps' whores were working the streets. Nothing to see," The senior officer turns away, hissing with annoyance at the amount of paperwork that is inevitably waiting on his desk, and more than likely his police captain hoarse from his shouts and screams for answers about the massacre, wanting to know if they had a gang war on their hands, "And I doubt anyone would have heard anything. Besides their legs having been broken into three pieces, someone tore out their tongues at the root. The forensics team found the remains scattered inside the hidden armory at the back of the shack."

The younger officer twitches his head about, dark shadows darts and swirls, his imagination lending a pair of glowing eyes staring back and sharp talons that twitch down the sides of the shack.

Panicked he hurries after his partner, refusing to be left alone anywhere within the vicinity of the murder scene. "W-W-Wait for me!"

* * *

Wikus is sluggish, slow to wake from sleep. Something has stirred him to awake, and with his eyes gummy with restless hours of slumber, he can't quite yet make out what has troubled and woken him.

"Mmmmm?" Wikus rubs at his face and half-slitted eyes. Against his chest, Barry's little chest rises and falls in tempo against his father's.

Donald shudders awake, stiff from his awkward sleeping arrangement. In an instant the larger prawn stiffens and curls closer against Wikus.

"William?" Wikus whispers, vaguely recognizing the curve of the large prawn's shoulders, the black and white figure crouched across from them within the shadows of the shack.

The prawn's entire front is caked with dried human fluids. Wikus cringes at the amount of blood that paints William like an ancient, dark tribal god. A beast from within the deepest caverns of one's nightmares.

"…..I fixed it." William chatters softly. The large prawn is fascinated by his gore streaked hands and forearms, his carapace stiff and sticky from the uncomfortable depths that the fluid has soaked down in between his plates.

"Oh my god…" Wikus carefully places Barry down, and thanks the stars that his son still sleeps like the dead. Cautiously he crawls towards the withdrawn prawn as William still contemplates the bits of tissue that resists falling from his talons. "William…_what did you do_?"

Donald shudders, his hands cover his face, "…you stink of death…" The younger prawn revolted by the hanging stench of fear, piss, and blood.

William shifts. Wikus carefully rests his hands upon the prawn's bent knees.

"The blood flooding their throats muffled most of the screams." William mutters. A twisted, proud glimmer in his deep set eyes. "They wailed like knifed pigs until I silenced them." The large prawn drops his forehead onto Wikus' shoulder.

Trembling, Donald crawls over to the two prawns. He keens for touch and comfort and slides underneath William's welcoming arm and buries his face against the larger prawn's chest.

Wikus gasps softly when the other large arm circles his waist as William embraces them both, pulls them to his chest too tight, but neither him nor Donald struggle to break free. They trill softly to the larger prawn, sensing his need to possess and surround them, his adrenal glands flushing his entire body until he vibrates unsteadily.

None of the three moves for the longest time, Donald and Wikus only slipping away when finally, exhausted, William collapses, his heavy bulk pillowed by the warmth and musk of a familiar nest after the two smaller prawns struggle and are victorious in dragging the larger prawn into their comfortable combined nest.

* * *

It is a little over two years after Christopher and the mothership broke through the atmosphere, one month after their human friend's death, that the massive move to District 10 is underway.

Much has changed since Elizabeth's untimely death and the subsequent revenge killing of her murderers. The Nigerians keep to the wayside, cautionary, seeming to know deep down who slaughtered the young gang members.

The prawn population, well over two million, seethes at the indignant treatment as they are rounded up and ordered onto the old school buses to be transported to their new home. It does not surprise anyone when minor fights break out throughout the day as the prawns wait to be herded like sheep aboard the transport vehicles.

The District 9 residents are allowed to take only what they can carry. Wikus consciously scoops up his son and pockets the vital license and few minor possessions deep inside the thin frayed pockets of his oversized shorts.

Donald mourns over abandoning most of his baubles and trinkets, but Wikus is alongside him to choose and pick his favorites and helps the taller prawn carefully package them to ensure safe travel to their new home.

"Do you have everything?" William asks while his hands purposefully push Donald and Wikus closer together, keeping them in one tight group while they stand in the long restless line of prawns, Wikus with his son in his arms and Donald clutching his small bag of possessions to his chest.

"Yes." Wikus affirms, while Donald nods.

William barks suddenly at another large prawn that gets too close, irritated with the slowness of the moving line. The large black and white prawn hisses when the other red prawn growls, but the challenger immediately backs down when William's chitin expands with one mighty heave of his huge chest and the sharp edges rattle together like the tail of a coiled rattlesnake.

William has shocked everyone, MNU agents and prawn neighbors, with his new aggression. MNU since the prawn has never exhibited hostility or his newest territoriality, and his prawn neighbors avoid doing anything that is seen as harassing with William or his younger prawns. The huge prawn goes unchallenged in the last month of their stay in District 9 as he claws his way to the top of the pecking order. The trauma of the Nigerian and MNU riot, and the brutal murder of the gang members, incites the older prawn to take actions into his own hands to ensure his younger neighbors remain unharmed.

* * *

"_You scare me." Donald bows his head, but accepts the hunk of meat that William shoves into his hands._

_Wikus keeps quiet, slowly chewing at his piece of lamb, Barry feverishly gulping down the little jewels of savory meat._

_William shoves the lamb carcass into the depths of the shack. The larger prawn refuses to allow Donald to return to his previous dwelling, no matter that their façade need not be played now that Elizabeth has passed away._

"_I scare myself sometimes." William strips huge chunks of flesh from the dead animal's thigh, "but yet, I have never felt more alive."_

_

* * *

_

"We need to get aboard the next bus." William strides back over to them. The large prawn ruthlessly shoves away a young Nigerian teenager who tries to pocket a few of Donald's best pieces while the green prawn's attention is distracted.

"…I already miss my shack." Donald shrinks underneath his misery while his claws knead the soft material of his old bag.

"You will pretty up your new tent in no time." William purrs comfortingly. A hand cups Donald's bent head, "You have us. Remember that. We are all that you need."

Donald fidgets beneath William's large hand. The young prawn trills, a private pleasure makes him flutter with excitement, the familiar warmth and contentment of being within a small family again, with a strong fierce leader to protect and guide them.

"We stick together." William guides them to step forward, the MNU men and women shouting for all prawns to prepare to board the buses. "Safety in numbers. I will not allow any harm to come to any of you."

Wikus is the first to hop into the bus, the emergency exit opened to allow more room for the alien residents to enter and hunker inside. Barry peers around in nervous curiosity. Donald bumps against his back, William immediately following behind.

"Daddy?" Barry twitches his head around, not understanding why they are all clustered inside a tight, hot container, "Daddy…want to go home."

Wikus purrs, mandibles tickle Barry's temple. "It's okay." He soothes. Donald and William cluster close by, William managing his bulk to block most of the other prawns a healthy distance away. "We're going to our new home…won't that be fun?"

Barry whimpers. "….okay."

Wikus rocks his son while he peers out through the thick glass of the cracked window. Outside the abandoned shack that has been his home for the last year, a dull rusty stain still mars the soil where Elizabeth's body had lain. No amount of cooking sunlight and few days of rain do nothing to wash the stain away.

Wikus shudders, turning away from the window. The evidence of where the MNU agent had fallen would not be something that he would greatly miss.

For the first time in a long while, Wikus thinks about Christopher.

And he remembers Elizabeth's frustrated words.

"_Bullshit!" Elizabeth snaps, "Is it always so simple, Wikus? Stop dancing around the topic. Can't you just accept that, maybe, Christopher cared about you as more than an ally? Is it really so hard to accept that it broke his heart to leave you?"_

His face twitches into a short smile. The memory of her heated exuberance infects him, bringing him a tendril of joy.

'_I wonder where you are.' _Wikus sends out a thought to the prawn that he knew for only a few days. _'Did you make it home to your planet? Do you…remember your promise? I haven't.'_

Christopher would surely collapse at the notion of a MNU agent rising to his defense; Elizabeth certain that the prawn held a deeper affection for Wikus. Many times she had cornered Wikus and regaled him with the certainty of her claims.

'_I think you would have liked her.' _Barry bobs in his lap, peering out the window excitedly as the men begin to shout commands, waving for the driver, giving the go ahead. _'I'm sorry that you will never have the chance to meet her.'_

The memory of her final moments haunts him. The message that she whispered gave him hope. A sad, but lasting memoir, the MNU agent pleading with him with the unspoken message to not give up on Christopher.

"…_no…regrets..d-don't..look..back…'kay..?" The young woman whispers, face twisted with concentration as she pleads for Wikus to listen and understand. Her grip tightens as she clings to him. "….d-d-don't….just…keep..looking for-forward…."_

Christopher. Christopher. That fooking prawn possessed his thoughts like no other, save for Barry.

'_No! We stick together!' Christopher jolts behind his shield as the bullets ping across the surface. 'I won't leave you here!' A deep degree of panic in the prawn's face while Wikus shouts at him to go._

'_You made a promise to come back.' _He blinks free of the old memory of his ally, Christopher swearing to return for him in three years. _'Was it simply out of duty. Or…did it mean something else too?'_

Wikus knows that he shouldn't get his hopes up. It was stupid to look for something, a glimmer, amongst all the shit that had happened. What was he looking for exactly? Christopher swore to come back in three years…But once he had cured Wikus, then what?

The notion of a cure brought no excitement or anticipation. His arms tighten around Barry. _'I can't leave my son. I won't!' _He refuses to consider the notion. _'I'm through being selfish. I have a son. He's mine. Barry…And…maybe Christopher will be willing to take me with him, when he returns for the rest of his kind.'_

It isn't such a terrifying thing to consider. Space travel, a new home, and many more of the large, frightening prawns made him incredibly nervous, but regardless, a rush of excitement floods him.

'_Tania has left Johannesburg.' _The memory of his angel is bittersweet_. 'She left without looking back. I'm only a cruel memory to consider. An empty grave next to the shallow one of our unborn infant. There is nothing left for me here, on this planet. I have to stop looking back….I need to look forward to the future. With Barry. And…maybe Christopher.'_

Wikus tilts his head back, pondering the ceiling and beyond where the illusive blue sky and cotton ball clouds that stretch forward into the heavens above. _'Hey. Christopher?' _The bus jolts to life, the doors slammed shut as the large tires begin to roll, _'I know that you can't hear me. But….I kind of miss you. And…I wish you were here.'_ Donald chirps and curls against William in the seat across from Wikus and Barry.

The alien refugees, morbidly curious as the tall walls of the District slip past, peer out the windows as their old familiar home disappears, an uncertain future paving the road ahead.


End file.
